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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27030241">Symphony of Silence</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/catradora_mp7/pseuds/catradora_mp7'>catradora_mp7</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Dragon Prince (Cartoon)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Adoption, Alternate Universe - High School, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Crushes, F/M, Forgiveness, Friends to Lovers, Love, M/M, Muteness, New in Town, Orphan - Freeform, Other, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Slow Burn, compassion - Freeform</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 17:27:32</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,283</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27030241</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/catradora_mp7/pseuds/catradora_mp7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Callum's day could have begun better. First, he misses the bus, then he arrives late at class and is almost given extra-work as punishment. That day, however, turns out to be different as the appearance of a new student stirs up his usual monotone. She does not talk but sign and her behavior does not fit the definition of normal. What is Rayla hiding behind her thick veil of silence and what events might change Callum's future in a way he never expected?</p><p>The Dragon Prince - Highschool AU</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Amaya/Janai (The Dragon Prince), Callum/Rayla (The Dragon Prince), Ethari/Runaan (The Dragon Prince), Harrow/Sarai (The Dragon Prince), Lain/Tiadrin (The Dragon Prince)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>75</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>He had missed the bus. <em><span>Again. </span></em><span>Callum</span> was never late for anything <em><span>except</span></em><span> the goddamn bus. Homework? No problem! Groceries?</span> Right on it fam! But getting to school? Total failure. Fortunately, his step-dad had still been around to drive him, even though he earned himself a scowl and a halfhearted demand of “This better be the last time, please” as the man emerged from the bedroom, his eyes still half-closed. It was funny to see him this disorganized, usually, he emerged with a very positive attitude and well-dressed for his job as head manager of the biggest and only mall in a radius of sixty miles. Today, he was everything other than well-dressed with the white T-Shirt he used to sleep in. Never mind the pink underpants he was wearing.</p><p>“Thanks, Dad,” the boy said as he grabbed his backpack from the back seat as the distance to the school grew smaller by the second, almost knocking it over in the process. Harrow slowed down until the car stopped moving in front of the black iron gates flanked by a modest archway, sighed and his tired eyes were enlightened by a spark of softness, “You’re welcome, Callum. Have fun at school, okay?”</p><p>Nodding with a grin, Callum opened the car door and jumped out, his hair swaying in the soft breeze, “I will, have fun with mom!”</p><p>A small chuckle cut through the air, “Oh, I won’t have any fun as long as your mother hasn’t had her coffee and breakfast.”</p><p>With a shiver, Callum pictured his mom’s appearance every morning before breakfast. She was pretty but definitely not a pretty sleeper. In the mornings, her soft voice would mutate into a low croaking, her hair in a complete shamble, and her eyes puffed from keeping them shut for hours on end. In summary, she could have gone out as a witch for Halloween without disguise. He knew that parallel was mean to think of but it was just too similar for his mind not to make the connections.</p><p> </p><p>He smiled at his dad and rolled his eyes before wishing him goodbye as one of his eyes spied the time on his watch. 7:40 am. The class started at 7:45. Crap. The air was slightly colder than anticipated, easily getting through his thin blue jacket as well as his red scarf with light gold ornaments, settling on his skin as he raced through the courtyard of his school, reaching the old red doors leading inside as fast as he possibly could. The paint was so old at this point that when he touched the frame, a small cloud of dark red dust rained from the wood, settling somewhere beneath his hurried footsteps. According to his principal, the building was so old it predated the second world war and it was certainly noticeable. Most of the yellow and white painted walls were smeared with names, jokes, or obscenities, just the kind of immature pictures fitting the school’s students and their ages. The floors were made out of red matte marble tiles, easy sliding-traps in winter when everyone carried defrosting snow into the hallways, Callum had slipped way too many times than he would have liked to admit.</p><p>Now, however, he needed to reach the classroom in time before his teacher arrived. If he didn’t, well, it would surely bring him another set of extra-work, especially with Mr. Ibis, his Physics teacher. The boy didn’t actually <em><span>dislike </span></em><span>him,</span> but he had the preference to gravitate towards other classes that were not as boring as Ibis’. At least the continuous monologue he usually held gave him plenty of time to sketch and draw in his little sketchbook or count clouds but it was still not as exciting as say, art class. In his head, he was already sitting over a big piece of paper becoming a second Picasso when he rushed around the last corner in the hallway leading to his classroom. Without giving it a second thought he grabbed the handle and jerked the door wide open, his heart beating wildly as he stared at the crowd of students inside...all of them already seated. The sound of wood hitting concrete made him jump a little as the momentum he had given the door let it collide with the nearest solid object, which in this case was the wall. Chatter was cut short as every pair of eyes focused on Callum, a sheepish smile settling on his face as Mr. Ibis turned his head around so slowly the boy could hear the main themes of several horror-movies in his head. 7:47.</p><p>“Ah, Callum, I am glad you could join us after all.”</p><p> </p><p>‘Well,’ he thought, ‘looks like another evening spent with extra-work.’</p><p>The teacher shook his head, “No excuse?”</p><p>“Would you believe me if I said my bike broke down halfway here?” he asked, trying his best to sound honest with an improvised grin on his face, only resulting in an awkward pause. Worst of all, <em><span>he did not even own a bike.</span></em></p><p>The short silence filled the air, the boy’s eyes slowly wandering to the ground as he awaited his judgment. His face was now as red as a tomato and burning with the heat of the sun, growing more intense with every second that passed. Why did the teacher have to make such a scene every time he arrived late? Were teachers not supposed to be somewhat parental figures? In his head, he quickly realized this question had him cornered anyway, his parents would perhaps react the same way if he missed any important date.</p><p>“Hm, fine.”</p><p>Callum’s head perked up, his eyes radiating the surprising mix of emotions he was storing in his chest. Was Ibis willing to spare him or was this some sort of trick? The teacher nodded towards his student’s preferred seat in the very back of the class, “I am in a good mood today, no extra work for you.”</p><p>This not only made Callum feel extremely lucky, but it also got the entire classroom to whisper, the many silent voices adding up to a loud, continuous hissing as he walked back to his chair, quickly getting rid of the backpack on his shoulder. A small grin split his lips as he crammed out his notebook and pencil case from the frightening depths of the bag. Sometimes it felt like the bag was a portal to another dimension or a wormhole, swallowing belongings and never letting them reemerge, but this time, Callum seemed to have a streak of luck.</p><p>“Silence, please,” the teacher demanded, raising his hands in an over-exaggerated manner to calm the whispering storm down to sustainable levels. His eyes darted across the room, staring holes into the backs of those who had foolishly turned around in the belief he would not notice. </p><p> </p><p>“Today,” he began, nodding towards what seemed to be somewhere close to Callum, “We have a guest. Well, not a guest exactly, a new student who will be part of our class for the rest of the year.” Again, the silence was parted by a gust of whispers, a new student? The new semester had begun months ago, who was brave enough to enter in the middle of the learning process instead of waiting for another three months? Looking around, the boy noticed a figure sitting at the next table to his left. In his hurry, he had not noticed the newcomer. The figure was wearing a thick dark green hoodie, a few specks of brown along the torso which, however, was mostly covered by the crouched position they were sitting in. Their pants had a similar, slightly darker shade of green to them, beginning in a lighter color that grew increasingly in opacity the farther down the eye went, almost like the rising night sky. It was secured by a dark brown belt closing with a strange buckle formed like two intertwining half moons and a pearl where the tips met, forming almost a perfect circle. At last, the figure’s boots seemed to almost melt into the shadows, black sneakers of the same shade the ending of the trousers had, building a perfect bridge between them. </p><p>“Would you like to introduce yourself?” Ibis asked the stranger, a look of kindness settling in on his hard features. </p><p>The figure hesitantly lifted their head, their hood still covering most of the face hiding between the folds of fabric. A set of hands appeared from the insides of the sleeves where they had been hiding, presumably shy from the cold. As the hands ascended further, a small ray of sunshine hit the darkness underneath the veil, casting light onto the features of a girl. Her dark blue, almost purple eyes squinted as she avoided the light shining onto her pearl white skin. As she did so, a strain of white hair decided it had suffered long enough from captivity and escaped the innards of the mantle, falling straight across her face like a solid ray of moonshine. Callum knew it was rude to stare but something was hypnotizing about her contrasting appearance, the striking looks of her eyes which scanned the room, timidly and slightly scared as she began bending her fingers into shapes the boy immediately recognized. </p><p>
  <em>My name is Rayla,</em>
  <span> she signed quickly, Callum could feel her unease over being watched, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Nice to meet you.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>Mr. Ibis smiled, “Her name is Rayla, she is pleased to meet all of you. As you can see, she prefers to communicate via sign language. Does anyone present speak ASL?”</p><p>The boy’s eyes scanned his classmates, none of them raised their hand. He gulped down his own anxiety, his aunt Amaya had been born both deaf and therefore mute, she and his mother had taught him sign language from a young age. Now was the time to prove his skills, was it not? Besides, the girl, Rayla, seemed nice even though shy, why not help her out, right? He raised his arm, immediately feeling the gaze of the girl wander over to him. </p><p>“Why, Callum?” the teacher said, a slight surprise able to escape his masquerade of professionalism, “That is indeed a pleasant surprise. Would you be willing to guide Rayla through the school and show her everything?”</p><p>“Sure,” the boy agreed, giving the girl a friendly nod as Ibis turned away, pleased with the outcome of the situation and his arrangement skills. She nodded back, her face still a shy mask without the ability to muster a smile. Callum knew how hard it was to settle in with new people. When he had moved here, it had taken him well over a month to make any sort of friends. What had especially bothered him was the target he had been and still was for bullies. Being the new kid was hard, you either made a strong first impression or someone would find something to bother you with. Rayla’s timidity would most likely result in the latter. </p><p>
  
</p><p><em>Hey,</em> he started signing after reassuring that the teacher was not looking, <em><span>is it just me, or was he surprised I actually did something right for</span></em> <em>once?</em></p><p>She looked at him with the same cautious look she had put on before, her dark blue eyes filling with an expression of light amusement, <em><span>No, it’s not just you.</span></em>  </p><p>He turned back to face the blackboard, there was something more to this girl than just her being the new student in the class. Something, hidden behind her looks, tried to stay secret in the mirrors of her soul. It was always the eyes that fascinated him the most, no matter what person. With one look, he could see through the veil they built around their appearance, clearly recognizing the real character of someone instead of what they were trying to make you believe. For Rayla it was...sadness. Maybe she was sad because she had to move here? No, it was something deeper.  </p><p>Before he could solve the riddle, he noticed the almost full blackboard, white letters one line away from reaching the bottom. Pulling out a pen, he allowed himself one more look over to the newcomer. She was rummaging through the contents of her bag, looking for something to write with on the silver notebook in her lap. After a few seconds, her lips opened as she sucked in air with something resembling the beginnings of panic settling on her face. Callum, immediately understanding what she was missing, pulled out the second pen in his case, the one he always reserved for times like this. He waited until she looked up with a silent cry for help on her lips, letting her eyes wander across the room until they, once again, stuck to the boy holding the emergency pen in his hand, showing it to her to sign, <em><span>You can have mine, don’t worry, </span></em><span>afterward. </span></p><p>She froze, <em><span>Callum, right? </span></em><span>her eyes</span> riddled with confusion, <em><span>Why are</span></em> <em>you being so nice to me?</em></p><p>The boy scratched his chin. That was a question he did not know himself. Why <em><span>was</span></em> he so aware of her needs and immediately willing to help her? </p><p><em>Hey,</em> <em>we are both fluent in this linguistic, </em><span>he stopped his hands for just a second as thoughts raced through his</span> mind, <em><span>Wait, is it linguistics if</span></em> <em>we use our hands? Shouldn’t it be something more like...I don’t know, <strong><span>fing</span></strong><span>uistics?</span></em></p><p>There it was, the faintest of all smiles moving Rayla’s lips as she shook her head and replied, <em><span>You know that you are</span></em> <em>kind of a dork, right?</em></p><p>Callum grinned as he passed the pen over to her, receiving a grateful nod in response. Once more, it was her eyes speaking for her instead of her lips but still, these purple pools of light were able to express more than words ever could.</p><p> </p><p>When the boy turned back around, Rayla tucked the strain of hair back that had popped out of her cloak. That small smile Callum had noticed, she had not meant for it to happen. Clicking open the pen, she tried focusing on the letters on the blackboard. Her mind, however, was still on the same thought that sat like a boulder in the river.</p><p>The boy did not know how long she had not smiled anymore.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I AM ALIVE, I'M SORRY<br/>Currently, I'm stuck in quarantine and boy oh boy have I learned how much one's surrounding influences you in your creativity. The lack of change and other people around me really got me into writer's block but thankfully I have a few chapters written in advance. The reason for me not sharing them is simply because I am very impulsive in my writing, so sometimes I jump between timestamps because I feel like I had great input on it. Sooo yea, here's chapter two and again, I'm sorry for being gone for a good while. I'll *try* to be better with uploads but considering the times we live in, I doubt I can fulfill my promise :l</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“And this is the cafeteria!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Callum stepped into the big room, a crowd of students already practically running over each other to get to the steaming hot goodies waiting for them at the counter. Behind him, Rayla tried to make herself as small as possible, trying to avoid the stares of the others squeezing themselves past her. She hated when there were so many people in one spot, every time she was forced into such a situation, her heart would practically jump out of her body, the anxiety spiking with the slightest gesture that might concern her. Fortunately for her, everyone seemed to be interested only in the food after the hours of boring classes and things they learned once only to forget about it a few minutes later. She could feel the low rumbling of her stomach, though it might have been the deafening stomps of the others.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I can see that, </span>
  </em>
  <span>she signed, just before the humorous part of her - which did exist, she just was not used to showing any other emotion except neutrality around people - added, </span>
  <em>
    <span>I’m mute, not blind, you know?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The boy froze. For a split-second, Rayla wondered if she had said something wrong, her heart skipping a beat as he stared at her. Then, his face contorted into the biggest fit of laughter she had ever seen. His eyes squeezed shut, she could see the tears in their corners like pearls of joy. Even though she had not thought of the joke as something overly good, his face and the way he held his stomach as if he was about to die from laughter did evoke a slight chuckle in her sore throat. Still, her mind cut it out almost immediately afterwards again, her mental blockade not allowing for more sound to slip through. Still, it was weird how it ceased working sometimes around this dorky teenager. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It took him a minute to get a grip on himself before he said, “Neither are you deaf. Could have slipped me that teeny tiny detail when I was signing like a madman and probably messing up constantly.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rayla felt a light heat rise to her face as he raised one of his brows in a comedic yet demanding manner, as if to know why she had waited so long to tell him about her hearing. Honestly, she had no idea why she had done so. Usually she followed one simple rule, ‘No ask, no tell’. In Callum’s case though, she had just blurted it out in the middle of art class when she had seen him having to interrupt his careful work of drawing several times to translate for and talk to her. She had felt bad as well as somewhat frustrated to see him doing that, especially because she was amazed by the care he put into every stroke of his pencil. When he was drawing, it seemed like his heart was put bare on the paper and his entire dedication shone brighter than any light out there. Even his face while doing it was something she could not stop looking at. The passion in his eyes and his quirk to stick out his tongue close to the corner of his mouth was something entirely new to her. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>You were not messing up, </span>
  </em>
  <span>she ensured quickly, trying to get those embarrassing thoughts out of her head, </span>
  <em>
    <span>I just don’t like telling everything about me, especially not here where I have not really talked with anyone except you.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He smirked, “Well, not for long that is. C’mon, follow me.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>What did he mean by that? Had he planned something she did not know of? Regardless, she felt a rush of anxiety opposing the light drizzle of excitement somewhere far in the back of her mind as she saw him walking away from her. Did she seriously trust him? She had met him - what - four hours ago? What if he...no, he would never be in union with something as vile as the presence stalking her like a hunter’s dog out for blood. She did not have to overthink every single detail, this was ridiculous. Thoughts could evolve when flowing uncontrolled, almost like a mountain creek. It could start as a slow, calm stream flowing along the countless rocks on the riverbed. The longer you would follow it, however, it would become wider, more rapid in movement, slowly dislodging some stones until it became a violent rush of deadly coldness, not afraid to uncover the deepest darkest corners hidden far below its surface. At that point, it would be impossible to stop. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Giving herself a small push, she shook her head and followed the brown-haired boy, trying her best to stick close to him as he parted the crowds of scholars like Moses the Red Sea. Even though Callum did not seem like the kind of person people would make way for, the way he walked just radiated so much confidence and joy no one dared to stand in his way. Except for a chosen few, as she was about to learn.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>~~~~~</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, freak!” a rather deep, scratchy voice called out right in front of the boy. She could see how his shoulders tensed up as the vibrations of the air struck his ears, the force in his fingers doubling as he clenched them together. Rayla carefully peeked out from behind him, somewhat intrigued and concerned by the way he was reacting to those words. In his way, two tall figures stood firm against the white ceiling above, throwing their shadows on his face as he looked up to meet their gazes.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A sigh left his lips, “Hunter, what do you want?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The figure in front, a tall boy, significantly older than the both of them, stepped out into the light, revealing his face to the world. Immediately, without having seen more of him, Rayla knew what kind of person he was. That look in his light blue eyes, a sharp sting of hatred and sadism mixed with a dullness of monotony that clouded his vision like a foggy curtain would with the sun. In summary, the most obvious bully in existence. A red cap sat on his short blonde hair, cut back a fair bit, almost resembling military style. Despite the relatively cold environment, he was wearing a short-sleeved black shirt to reveal his muscles. She turned her nose at the view, more than ignorance she hated arrogance, empty pride kept in one’s mind forever until it evolved into an even worse poison. The guy’s arms were not even impressive at all but what did it matter, it was the feeling the person had about their body that was truly important. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He grinned, “How about you show us what you have in those stuffed pockets of yours? We are starving and it would be </span>
  <em>
    <span>so nice of you </span>
  </em>
  <span>to share some of your money with us.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>From behind him, the woman stepped forward only to exclaim with the most dull and empty voice, “But you promised me I could buy that mascara I was talking about!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She seemed to be in the same range of age as the boy, maybe a slight tad younger, yet she dressed like someone who had just recently raided a few boutiques and beauty stores in order to severely overdress for something like school. Even worse than that, even with Rayla’s admitted bad taste - or the lack of any taste, really - in what concerned clothing yelled at her that a crop top, a dark, ornamented pair of jeans that glistened like a stormy night and a strip of fur around her bare neck certainly had no business in the same outfit. Adding to this, the bored look in her brown eyes, the way she chewed her gum while talking, not caring if anyone in the surrounding could hear her chewing or not, and how her bleached blonde hair was bound into a ponytail hanging over her shoulder told the new girl everything she needed to know: Spoiled but utterly dimwitted rich kid.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rayla had to suppress a laugh as the bully tried to stay cool, biting his lower lip and closing his eyes before telling his companion, “Would you shut up, Cass, you are not helping me at all.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just saying!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A short moment of silence filled the surrounding air, as if they were separated by a bubble of quiet from the rest of the cafeteria. No one was minding them, this was probably not the first time something like this happened, judging by the few people dodging Hunter and his pal with a wide arc. In the time she had sorted all of her thoughts and assessed the situation, the boy had fixed his eyes on her. Shivers ran along her spine as he stared into her eyes, still obscured by the hood of her outfit but it did not matter. She could feel the malice behind those eyes, the sadistic intentions and selfish thoughts chasing each other in his brain in a never ending cycle of hatred. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And whom do we have here, huh?” he asked, taking a step closer to examine the girl behind his target, “Looks like fresh meat for the grinder. What’s your name?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her heart felt like it was going to sink right past the planet’s core and come out somewhere on the other side. She hated everything about this situation, the stare he was giving her, the hyena-like grin on that girl’s face next to him and first and foremost, the attention that shifted to herself. Some people had told her about stage fright, how they had not been able to move, talk, or breathe in the light of the theater. Right now, she could totally understand them, though for her specifically it took way less than hundreds of people staring at her. A pearl of cold sweat that had been building up for quite some time rolled down her back. Her hands, though raised to respond to the question, felt heavy and useless, just like her tongue. She could picture the expression of utter panic on her face as her brain failed her and nothing would work, not even breathing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Leave her alone,” Callum said, stepping in front of her. Even though he had tried to sound confident, the crack in his voice betrayed him. Still, it made Rayla’s heart jump for a second.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The gaze shifted away from her, back onto the boy ready to take a beating if it meant protecting someone innocent. </span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“Oho, is someone getting cocky? ‘S that your new girlfriend? What a surprise, I thought that other girl, Claudia, had an eye on you. Guess she’s too good for you after all.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Though Rayla was unable to see his face in its entirety, she felt his unease grow as his movements grew brittle in nature, sporadic and anxious as if he was about to storm off in a fit of embarrassment. Claudia? An eye on him? What had she stumbled upon here out of all places, whatever it was, it made her new friend feel extremely uncomfortable in his own skin. It reminded her of all the times she had been in his situation, the countless incidents with girls her age or older, styled up to look like the latest fashion icons at that time, more makeup on their faces than brains in their bird-sized heads while their parents gave them the money to behave like the most entitled brats in existence. Oh, how she had wished someone had stood up for her in those times, when her life had been in such a state of turmoil and utter disrepair. She would not allow anyone to be treated the way she had been all of her life outside of home, especially not her new friend whom she already adored for his undying enthusiasm and the dedication he put into spreading it to all the others in the room, even though it often painted him as a hopeless dork. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She stepped forward, despite her heart’s strings trying to yank her back into her protected little spot behind Callum’s back, where she could have stayed and watched the discomfort of her friend grow by the minute. </span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <em>
    <span>I’ve got this, </span>
  </em>
  <span>she stated as the boy threw her a glance that was both a warning and a question at the same time, deep concern electrifying the inner workings that were revealed for just a split second, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Just translate for me okay?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He nodded, then looked back to Hunter who was looking at them with a skeptic look in his eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is Rayla, as you can see, she uses sign language to talk instead of...you know, voice stuff.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Callum’s eyes stayed trained on her signing hands, putting her requests into words. When he saw the last words she had towards the bully, he froze with his jaw wide agape. Before he even attempted to explain what she had just said, his pair of hands, hidden from the views of their two onlookers behind his back asked one important question, </span>
  <em>
    <span>are you sure you want me to translate </span>
  </em>
  <b>
    <em>all</em>
  </b>
  <em>
    <span> of that?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Her nod was firm, small but focused, as if she was trying to waste as little energy in confirming his rising fear, however, it was her eyes that told him enough of an answer before she had moved a single strand of muscle. Those purple moon disks radiating confidence he had not yet seen in her, a sudden contrast to the shy and anxious girl he had gotten to know during class up until now. It was as if someone had flicked a switch inside her, eliminating every trace of fear and anxiety and replacing it with sheer will, pushing past whatever was bothering her so much. Callum’s eyes fell on her feet. They were wider apart than in a normal conversational stance, her right foot taking a slightly angled position behind the left, giving her more stability. Now, her slack stance he had been observing before appeared far less weak but strong, once again, confident. He had seen this kind of movement in only a few kinds of people before, all of them trained in some form of physical self-defense. But no, she could not possibly be one, or could she? Had he been given a totally different image than her real self?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hesitantly, he faced his adversary again. With a dry clear of his throat Callum swallowed his fear and began translating.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She said, uhm, that she has no idea of who Claudia is and that, uh, she would like to meet her, unlike you. However...your arse is kind of standing in the way of any formal introduction.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>~~~~~</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Like clockwork, the entire cafeteria was silenced. Rayla’s mind was not exaggerating as it warned her of the hundreds of heads that suddenly turned their direction. Apparently, their conversation had attracted attention after all, despite her high hopes of human instincts and the feeding frenzy taking away some storm that was undoubtedly sparking between the two small groups. Hunter needed a few seconds to process, his mouth slightly agape as he did. Ironically, it was his mate that reacted first, despite her slow-minded looks, “Looks like we got a rebellious one here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then, it was the boy’s time to react. His eyes flared with unadulterated anger, rage that consumed his very innards. It was enough to make Rayla realize what his problem was, which related to his choice of companionship as well: He had never been told “No” before in his life. His cruel ways - and by the looks of it, faulty taught manners by his parents - had made him focused on the fact he always got the way, similar to a snow plow. It was used to darting through the snow without any problems, but when faced with a rock in the way it would take quite a few twists and turns to get out of the situation. Her instincts warned her of the danger that was building fast, the familiar feeling of weight shifting down to her legs as her heart had to take a second before transporting all the accidentally accumulated blood back to the places it belonged to, a mild cold spreading over her body as it happened. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Now listen here you little shi-” he began, stepping forward aggressively, ringing every last cell in Rayla’s body into battle stations. Her training had been a long time ago but despite her allocation of skills due to her change in extracurricular sports she still knew what to do. Her pupils narrowed as her gaze shifted over all the weak points she could use to overpower this guy. Physically he was in a clear advantage, heavier, more muscular. Yet, it was apparent he was slower than Rayla, as well as giving her more room to attack. Hunter moved sluggishly, definitely never been in a serious fight before as his center mass was not balanced enough to withstand a well-placed strike. Eyes, nose, throat, especially the prominent Adam’s apple there, and not to forget, the sacred crown jewels. She deepened her stance, balancing out her mass and raising her fists to strike if necessary. The surrounding room took a deep breath to await the first blow and her mind seized any unnecessary thoughts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>If she had not been in trouble before, she definitely was now.</span>
</p>
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